


I See That Sparkle In Your Eye

by CookieCatSU



Category: Wonder Woman (Movies - Jenkins)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Gods & Goddesses, Constellations, F/F, Just Greater focus on it than in Canon, Mythology - Freeform, Patrons, Vague mentions of Steve, alternate first meetings, not by name though
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-22
Updated: 2021-01-22
Packaged: 2021-03-12 09:00:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,156
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28882830
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CookieCatSU/pseuds/CookieCatSU
Summary: There's a woman up in the night sky, painted in dazzling celestial bodies and pinpoint spectral stars. Barbara sees her when she closes her eyes at night, sees her between unreachable realms and darkness.She's determined to meet her.
Relationships: Diana (Wonder Woman)/Barbara Minerva
Comments: 3
Kudos: 71
Collections: Quote Prompt Memes





	I See That Sparkle In Your Eye

**Author's Note:**

  * In response to a prompt by Anonymous in the [quoteonlyprompts](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/quoteonlyprompts) collection. 



> **Prompt:**
> 
> "In our eyes, the stars are immortal."

Barbara has always been a night dweller, drawn to the inky dark abyss of the evening sky, twilight and brisk chill. She stumbles out of the house in oversized sweaters covering her hands, tilted skirts, climbing out of her open bedroom window to perch on the overhang just beyond.

She watches the stars, day after day, and night after night.

It's a compulsion, she thinks, one she can't resist, even when she nearly slips off the roof one night, or when her mother catches her halfway past the sill and tries to yank her back in.

Barbara always comes back, is drawn in, in a way that goes against sense, reason.

Somewhere between Mars and Jupiter, twilight and daybreak, dusk and dawn, Barbara sees it as fate.

  
  


* * *

The dreams first start when she's about ten.

Sometimes, she sees planes. They're fighter jets, she thinks, marked with blue and red symbols and painted olive green. Rustic rotors and outdated propellers. There's nearly always a crash, in those dreams, smoldering metal and cutting pain, and a scream that feels so analogous to her own.

More often than not, though, Barbara sees constellations. Sprawling and stretching as far as the eye can perceive. Twinkling. Enticing.

They call out to her.

* * *

"In our eyes, the stars are immortal" Barbara says, and she talks of humans. "But they aren't, are they?"

And her dream woman, sparkling with stardust, looks sad.

"No. It is as close as it comes, for mortals, but no. Everything must end. It is the way of things"

* * *

It's an ebb and flow. Diana only ever takes a single follower at a time. They are always mortal. Always starry eyed and distinct, darling cactus blooms that Diana cultivates and cares for with every ounce of her soul. 

When she has a follower, she is at the height of her power, dozens of stars wide, beaming solar flares and cosmic wind fit to tear whole civilizations apart.

In the between times, she is weak. Small and yearning. A few, dim starlets, flickering and dull.

The moon weeps, for the long lost star. The Aurora Borealis waver and drip dull as old paint. Dionysus pulls her aside, and pushes her to seek more.

Reclaim what is rightfully hers.

Diana glances at the idol backed with a thousand patrons strong, glowing dots unable to be distinguished, and shakes her head.

She would wait.

* * *

Diana Prince has an otherworldly glow about her. Barbara… really can't explain it. She literally _glows_ , just without any of that neon fluorescence, bright luminescence that snags the eye, offensive and harsh as strobe lights. 

Instead, there's simply a faint tinge to her aura, shiny, as if there are tiny, fractal star fragments under her skin.

"I've never had a pina colada before" Her head tilts, and Barbara's eyes are drawn to obsidian black earrings, rhombus cut, and 6 pointed stars hanging, shifting, crystalline, refracting the light above in prismatic sparkling color. It seems oddly appropriate, as natural as the room brightening grin curling across her lips. "I suppose these are those little foreign luxuries I've heard so much about"

"Maybe?" Barbara hazards, the tiniest bit tongue-tied. "I mean, they're uh… better than the other cocktails, definitely. But not uh-" She cuts herself off, "Do you want some punch?"

Her accent is foreign, yet familiar. Barbara can't place it, and it's going to itch at her for ages until she does.

It's going to itch at her anyhow, smooth as silk and deeply rich, basically the definition of a earworm, crawling deep and lodging in the back of her skull, sure to float in her memory endlessly, never to be dislodged- but that's beside the point.

"I'm sorry. I'm just wondering… Are you from here? Because I don't think I've seen you before"

"No" She glances up at the vaulted ceiling, and her eyes catch the light, shimmering nebulas, edged in vivid azure. "I'm from quite a distance away"

  
  


* * *

Start a dream journal, her therapist says, and Barbara glances at him and laughs.

"That's what I need" She replies, "Nonsensical writings on nonsensical happenings"

She does it though. Awakens with blinding starbursts fading just behind her eyelids, and stumbles out of bed, cracking open her checker spiraled notebook in the disorienting half dark.

And she writes- about yearning and longing, dark silk wound curls and pools ethereal blue.

  
  


* * *

"Do you believe in fate? That some things are predetermined to happen?" Barbara asks, and she glances up at the stars, wonder in her eyes. Somehow, though, they pale in comparison to Diana, and her gaze returns to the woman beside her, magnetized. Tone quiet and plaintive. "Like there's some big, higher power, that ordains things to be"

Diana's expression turns thoughtful.

"In a way, yes. I believe that there are higher powers, bigger than any one of us. Truth. Forgiveness. Benevolence. I also believe that some things are _meant_ to be. Fated" Diana gently runs her thumb over the top of Barbara's palm, threading their fingers and squeezing. "But I don't think that disregards the concept of free will" 

"No?"

"Fate is fluid. I don't think something being fated means it isn't a choice" She smiles at Barbara. 

"We all have choices"

* * *

Diana gazes at the stars with a fondness edging on longing. She regards the sky as if it is home, as if her windswept feet belong up amongst the clouds, not strap weighted and stuck to the ground, silty, earthly terrain.

She speaks of her domain, sometimes, eyes bright, and Barbara hangs on to every word.

It takes her awhile, to realize what she means.

"I'll show you" She says, in the dead of the night, abrupt, but gentle, tender. Unbelievably affectionate. She's standing in the middle of Barbara's backyard, barefoot in dewy grass that gleams in half slanted moonlight, hand extended out.

Offering. Offering what Barbara cannot refuse.

"You mean-?"

She points toward the sky, toward a collection of stars just beyond the edge of the treeline. "My domain. I want to share it with you"

"Wow! Am I– good? I mean, is this okay?" She grasps the edges of her red t-shirt, which is ragged and sorta tattered, and definitely not the kind of thing she'd wear if she wanted to make a good first impression. 

"Should I change before we go or–?"

"You're fine" Diana reassures her, with a laugh so pretty it should be a crime. Goddess or no, it's downright devious.

It's almost as bad as the heart she's managed to steal. (Barbara's heart, obviously).

"Really? What if we run into, I don't know, Poseidon, up there?" Barbara counters, and she can't help a bemused chuckle, as Diana takes her hand.

Diana stifles a giggle of her own. "I'll protect you"

* * *

"What would you choose?" Barbara asks, and it's two parts curiosity and one part spur of the moment nosiness, brought on by their discussion on free will.

"You" Diana answers honestly.


End file.
